


Ciri is Usually Right about Things

by CheyanneChika



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Boys Kissing, First Meetings, Fluff, Light-Hearted, M/M, Matchmaker Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Meet-Cute, Musician Jaskier | Dandelion, Nonsense, Past Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheyanneChika/pseuds/CheyanneChika
Summary: Jaskier and Geralt meet-cute thanks to Ciri
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 13
Kudos: 160





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Why did I write this?  
> 1) Someone on the internet said we should write meaningful things  
> 2) I’m getting a buzz going, yay state-wide lockdown  
> 2a) I'm quite drunk now so....posting  
> 3) I like fluff and got the prompt: “Spill (or slip & fall) meet-cute between two customers who always sit at opposite sides of the shop but have ‘noticed’ each other.” (Thanks Jo!)  
> 4) This is attempt number two because the first one turned into fluff followed by dark introspection and then fluff again. I’ll post it later once I’ve finished writing it.

The guy who played guitar in the coffee shop every other night was back. It was during the day too and Geralt was not going to stare at him as he drank coffee and read something on his phone. He was here with his daughter and he was going to pay attention to her.

“—and Eist didn’t even tell grandma when I snuck out to go play knucklebones with the boys!” she said brightly, even as she herself was lost in her smartphone. “He just smiled when I snuck back in and asked how much money I’d won.”

Geralt’s eyebrow raised. “And how much did you win?”

“A tenner. I bought that tea that I really wanted to try. And Eist and grandma liked it too, so everyone wins.”

“Do I not get to try this mysterious tea?” Geralt’s eyes slid back over Ciri’s shoulder to the other man when he laughed and started typing.

“I left it at grandma’s so no. I’ll get to have some next time I go over. That way, it’ll last for a while.”

“Hmm.”

Ciri, who was also only half paying attention, looked up at the non-answer and then turned to see what her father was looking at. He jerked his gaze back to hers as she returned it with a small smile. “Do you know him?”

“No.”

“Hmm” she retorted.

His eyes narrowed and he huffed. “He plays music here sometimes.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh yeah?” She looked back over her shoulder. He actually looked up, met her eyes, and smiled at her. She smiled and looked back to her father. “He’s cute. Is he good?”

“Hmm.”

Her smile widened. “You think he’s cute too!”

Geralt did not answer and pointedly did not look at the musician again.

“Does he sing?”

“Yes.”

“Play an instrument?”

“Guitar.”

“And is he good?”

Geralt sighed. “Yes.”

“What’s his name?”

“Don’t know.” Only partly a lie. He knew that the man’s stage was Jaskier which Geralt did not find pretty. 

“Uh huh,” Ciri replied, sounding utterly dubious.

At that moment, the man got up and waved to the barista with a blue mohawk behind the counter and started walking toward the door. As he passed their table, he stumbled and pitched forward. Geralt’s arm snapped out and caught the other man. 

Warm, strong arms wrapped around his. Geralt looked into warm blue eyes. The other man smiled brightly. “Hello.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replied. He heaved upward and settled Jaskier back on his feet as Ciri’s rogue foot slipped back under the table.

“Thank you,” he said with bright smile. He stared for a moment. Geralt stared back. “Hello,” he said again.

Ciri giggled. “Hi, I’m Ciri.”

Jaskier grinned at her, eyes pulling away from Geralt’s. He reached out and took her hand, pressing a gallant kiss to it. “Greetings, my dear, excuse me for missing you earlier. I am Jaskier, my lady.”

Ciri giggled brightly and retrieved her hand. “Are you going to kiss Dad’s hand too?”

Jaskier twitched slightly before his grin became a bit manic. “But of course!” He grasped Geralt’s hand and kissed if before Geralt could yank it back; a minor feat as Geralt felt the lips skate across most of his hand as he jerked it from the other man’s grasp.

“Might I know my savior’s name?” he asked.

“Geralt,” Ciri replied.

“A quite strong name, my savior!” Jaskier bowed deeply. “And now I must away.” And then he was gone.

Ciri grinned brightly at her father, who just glowered back.


	2. Chapter 2

Three days later, Geralt was back in the coffee shop, under the pretense of taking a break, but actually to listen to Jaskier play. The other man was set up across the room, strumming and singing a cheerful song about…something. Geralt was more just listening to the sound of his voice than the actual words.

He was still staring hard, his golden eyes zeroed in. Jaskier wasn’t looking though. His gaze bounced around those closer to the tiny stage as he swayed with the music.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” said a voice that had him jerking around. He stared into Yen’s purple eyes as she smirked for a moment before Ciri giggled at them and his gaze met hers.

“A bit young for you, but anyone that can keep your attention just by singing…”

“Be nice,” Ciri chastised her favorite babysitter-turned-tutor.

“I’m just saying I don’t think you ever looked at me like that.”

Geralt was pretty sure he did. He recalled someone having to hit him to get him to stop the first time he’d seen her walk by. But that was twenty years ago now. They’d burned bright and fast and went out just as quickly. The multiple attempts to resurrect the flame had failed in rapid succession. And now they were friends? They teased each other, plotted together and worked together to raise his adopted daughter and keep her biological grandmother from claiming total control of Ciri’s life.

It was good as it was.

Yennefer dropped gracefully into the chair opposite him while Ciri grabbed one from another table that had only one person and dragged it over. “Sure, make me go all the work,” she groused, sitting with far less grace.

“He’s not bad,” Yen said after a moment.

“Hmm,” was the reply.

Ciri rolled her eyes and bounced up again. “I’m going to get tea. Yen?”

“Mocha latte, please.”

“Sure, dad?”

“I’m good.”

Ciri sighed loudly. “I meant your credit card.”

“Hmm.” He pulled his wallet and gave her the whole thing.

“Thank you!” She bounced off, leaving him alone with Yennefer.

“It’s about time, anyway. You can’t keep pining after me.”

“I’m not,” he replied shortly.

“Oh look, he’s coming over.”

Geralt jerked and looked around. Jaskier was still onstage, playing a more maudlin tune than before, his gaze still pointedly on those right in front of him. Geralt closed his eyes and only just resisted muttering a sharp fuck under his breath. When he looked back, Yen’s smirk was massive. “You’re so gone!” She was nearly bouncing out of her skin.

“What did I miss?”

“Your dad has a crush.”

“I already knew that.”

Yen sipped the proffered latte as Ciri sat down. “He’s doing that staring thing where you can’t tell if he wants to murder or bang.”

Ciri laughed and Geralt glowered. 

“Thanks for coming out, everyone!” Jaskier’s speaking voice broke through Geralt’s and Yen’s staring contest. “Tip your staff and me if you’ve a mind to.” With that, he slipped his guitar into a case and hopped off the stage, collecting bills held out by listeners. He made his way to the counter and ordered before finally turning to check his phone and look over at their small table. He grinned. “Geralt, Ciri, you’re back.” His eyes lit on Yen and gave her a quick, unsubtle onceover. “With another lovely lady.” He bounced over and took Yen’s hand as he had Ciri’s. “A pleasure,” he said, though his lips never actually brushed her hand. “I am Jaskier.”

“Yennefer,” she replied, an eyebrow raised, as she retrieved her hand. “I enjoyed your performance.”

“Thank you. I aim to please.”

“Jaskier,” the barista called.

“Excuse me. I’ll leave you all to your drinks.” He returned to counter and then, drink in hand, made his way back to his fans.

“He thinks we’re together,” Yen said, the moment he was out of earshot.

“Uh huh,” Ciri added.

Geralt didn’t say anything. He didn’t react externally at all. He didn’t need to. That shouldn’t matter. If anything, it made the situation easier.

Yen watched his face, reading exactly what wasn’t there and groaned. Ciri’s eyes darted between them, got it, and then groaned as well. “Daaaaaad! You can’t sabotage this before it even gets going!”

Geralt said nothing. He wasn’t sabotaging anything.

He wasn’t.

TBC…


	3. Chapter 3

Geralt continued to visit the coffee shop and Jaskier continued to play and they continued to exchange a hello and a grunt. This went on for about a month before Ciri had had enough.

“Dad, if you do not make a move, I will.”

Geralt did not even dignify that with an answer. Jaskier wasn’t even here this evening. The stage was empty and looked bleak. Ciri shifted her chair, blocking the sight of it.

“Watch me!” She snapped and looked away with her brows drawn tightly down. Nothing more was said on the subject but the girl did not stop texting for the rest of the evening.

The next night, Ciri was with her grandmother and Eist, so Geralt was relatively confident nothing would happen as he sat a bit closer to the stage than usual.

Jaskier arrived and stepped up to a small round of applause. His eyes danced about the room, landing on Geralt’s, and a swift smile forced a flicker of one back.

As the music filled the room, he let his thoughts drift. What had Ciri meant when she said she would make a move? He scoffed. The girl was sixteen and could still pass for twelve. He pulled back into the present and pretended to work again. He had a macbook open and everything.

But Jaskier was dancing about, bouncing from the stage to the floor and back again. A woman with blonde hair in a complicated knot, a cap, a short skirt and loose t-shirt stood, blocking Geralt’s view, and swayed eagerly to the upbeat tune. Jaskier obliged, starting the crowd to clapping as he sang and let the guitar peter out, shoving it behind his back. He pulled the woman forward and they danced together for a few bars of the song before she kissed his cheek and let go, dancing away. Jaskier’s eyes blazed with joy as he pulled the guitar back around and picked up without missing a beat.

And that was fine. She was probably more his type, definitely more his age; a young lady who could keep up with a pretty boy musician Geralt barely spoke to. Absolutely.

And that would have been it had the woman…the girl…Ciri not fallen into the seat opposite him. She was barely recognizable with shimmer dust contouring her cheeks, eye shadow and hot pink lip gloss turning her from a very young sixteen into a playful woman in any club.

Geralt stared for a moment but refused to be struck dumb. “Your bra straps are showing,” he ground out.

She shrugged, the collar of the shirt falling even further down her shoulders. “It’s 2020, dad. You’re supposed to say I look nice when I doll myself up.”

“You’re dolling yourself up to hit on a guy in his thirties?” Geralt asked, voice tight.

“I’m dolling myself up because my dad is an idiot.” She snagged his coffee and pushed his laptop shut. “You’re going to get this right or I’ll sic Yen on him next.”

“Yen would eat him for breakfast,” Geralt argued.

“And you wouldn’t?” she asked with a smirk. She was becoming more like Yennefer every day. Or her grandmother. Possibly both. It was a good thing she was so well behaved most of the time, she’d be an absolute hellion otherwise.

“Now then,” she said when he still didn’t speak, “I’m going to go snag myself an attractive musician. You think grandma would disapprove if I ran away with a man twice my age?”

Geralt snagged her chair with his foot and yanked, forcing her back into it. “Why are you doing this?” he growled.

“Because you won’t!” she snapped back. Geralt’s mouth tightened. He hated this. What was she doing? Why was she pushing this so very hard? He didn’t know how long they stared at each other, neither one breaking until—

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t know you were here with Geralt,” spoke a light voice.

Once again, Jaskier had finished his set while Geralt wasn’t paying attention. The two looked up and Ciri gave him a wide smile. “You played beautifully!”

“Why thank you very much,” Jaskier said, bowing gallantly and extending his hand. “It seems Geralt is forever in the company of fantastic beauties.”

Ciri giggled. “I’m surprised you don’t recognize me.”

Jaskier frowned and squinted. Then his eyes went wide, and he jerked back upright, eyes darting worriedly from father to daughter and back. “My apologies, Geralt, I did not recognize Miss Ciri in the light.”

There was a pause as Geralt attempted to parse what Jaskier meant before Ciri kicked him under the table. “You’re doing the thing with your face,” she hissed before looking back at Jaskier. “His face is just like that. He isn’t actually trying to murder you with his eyes.”

“Are you sure about that?” Jaskier asked, faux lightly.

“Dad?” she asked leadingly.

“I’m not,” Geralt gritted out.

“Oh good…that’s…good.”

The silence widened between them and Ciri very nearly screamed in frustration.

“Well, I’d better be off. Lovely seeing again,” Jaskier said, shifting his guitar on his shoulder. He started to step away.

So Ciri tripped him…again.

And Geralt caught him…again.

“How does this keep happening?” Jaskier moaned as was pushed back up. “You just sit here and brood every time I sing, and you have a gorgeous girlfriend, and your beautiful daughter, and I just keep trying to talk to you and—and!” He gave up and backed away, hastily walking to the door. The bell tinkled warmly.

“Go!” Ciri snapped at her motionless father.

He huffed and got up. “I’ll take care of your stuff,” she called as he walked away. He rolled his eyes and went outside.

Jaskier hadn’t gotten far. He was actually beyond the range of the windows on the front of the shop, slumped down on the sidewalk, his guitar case keeping his head and shoulders from resting against the brickwork. His head was tilted up with his eyes closed and he was groaning softly.

“Hey,” Geralt called.

Jaskier opened his eyes. “Oh perfect,” he grumbled. “Please, come enjoy my utter failure to properly pine.”

“You pined?” Geralt asked, voice flat.

“Pined, pine, pining, present tense.” The musician covered his eyes dramatically. “Just leave me here to wallow.”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Jaskier removed the hand, blue eyes blinking slowly. “But Yennefer—”

“Is my ex. We broke up for the last time ten years ago.” Geralt ground his teeth for a moment. “She also says I should actually date someone else.”

“Also?”

“Ciri tripped you…twice.”

Jaskier shook with a muted laugh and pushed himself up the wall. “Then allow me to greet you properly.” He took Geralt’s hand and kissed it. “Might I ask you to accompany me to a late dinner this eve?” His lips and breath were warm on Geralt’s hand and he shuddered, flipped the other man’s hand into his own and pulled him close, bringing their lips together.

Neither moved for a moment and then they pulled apart and Jaskier swallowed and licked his lips. “You still look a bit like you’re going to murder me.”

Geralt’s lips quirked in a smile that was still somehow terrifying. “My face does that, I’m told.”

Jaskier grinned and brought their lips together again.

The end.


End file.
